


Take Me

by StackerPentecost



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Blood, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, mildly rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24193957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StackerPentecost/pseuds/StackerPentecost
Summary: David saving his life elicits an unusual reaction from Diarmuid.
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Take Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt to try and get back into the swing of writing regularly. Let's hope it works.

Diarmuid watched the warm water slosh onto the floor, staining the wood dark. He held still as he’d been asked, watching David’s large hands dip into the bucket with the old cloth in hand, staining the water more and more red every time. His eyes tracked the droplets of blood as they dissolved, noticing that soon the water was murky and rust-colored. David’s hands rose out the water then, dripping, as he enclosed Diarmuid’s smaller hands in his own and gently scrubbed away the dried blood from his skin. 

Once Diarmuid’s hands were clean, David soaked the cloth once more, wringing the water out before he lifted it to Diarmuid’s face, quietly beginning to wipe the blood that had sprayed across the younger man’s pale features. Diarmuid closed his eyes and as soon as he did, he was taken back to the morning’s events.

_ Diarmuid moved through the trees, his basket in hand. Occasionally he stopped to admire a flower or to pluck a mushroom growing from the earth before placing it into his basket. He’d already found some berries and some carrots, making for a productive morning. They had a garden back at their home, but Diarmuid enjoyed the ritual of going out into the woods to search out things to eat, especially ones that couldn’t be easily grown in a garden. He enjoyed cooking even more, as it was something he could do for David, something he could pour love into.  _

_ Diarmuid had stooped to study a plant he had never seen, wondering what it could be used for, if it could be eaten or used for medicinal purposes. By the time he heard the twig snap, he was too late.  _

_ The knife had stung as it dug into the flesh at the base of his throat, drawing a thin line of blood. He couldn’t remember what the man had said to him, breathing filth into his ear, but Diarmuid remembered shouting, struggling against the tight arm across his chest, only to still when the knife dug in deeper, making him cry out. He recalled seeing the two other men appear, seeing the ugly smirks on their faces.  _

_ They weren’t smirking for long.  _

_ Diarmuid didn’t know how he’d gotten there so fast, how he’d manage to move so silently and swiftly like he wasn’t a mortal man at all. But just as quickly as the men had appeared, the first dropped, red blooming across his chest where David had run him through with his sword. He turned toward the other, his rage echoing through the trees. In one easy movement, he cleaved the man’s head off, blood splattering across David’s body as well as Diarmuid and his assailant. Said assailant had just enough time to release Diarmuid before David’s dagger embedded in his skull, thrown in a matter of seconds. The man immediately fell to the ground in a heap.  _

The rest up until the present was a blur, though Diarmuid could still feel David’s hands on him as they carefully made their way back to their home. What he couldn’t shake was the sound of David’s enraged roar, the way he had been so willing to face danger to protect him, completely unafraid. He had been the picture of strength and power. 

Diarmuid swallowed, feeling the heat in his belly beginning to stir. He couldn’t help imagining those same hands, calloused and rough, so comfortable hefting a sword, being used in a very different manner. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of David in this way and he was no longer unfamiliar to the concept of being with someone, especially another man. But this time, he imagined those hands holding him down, pressing him into the furs that lined their bed, bruising his thighs as they held his legs apart, leaving handprints on his hips as he was penetrated over and over. 

As always, David seemed to sense Diarmuid’s mind wandering. Once he’d finished cleaning his face, he hung the wet cloth on the edge of the bucket and reached to tip up Diarmuid’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Immediately, Diarmuid felt his cheeks heat up, as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been, though David wasn’t a mind reader. 

David raised a questioning brow, though from the look Diarmuid had on his face, it was becoming obvious what the other man was thinking about. David’s tongue slowly wet his lips, his thumb tracing over Diarmuid’s own mouth. 

Diarmuid let out a soft moan, a chill trailing down his spine as David’s large hand moved to cup his cheek. As they watched each other, Diarmuid found he couldn’t help himself, unable to hold back as he surged up and kissed David hard, tangling his fingers in those dark curls. David exhaled softly but soon returned the kiss, his hand slipped down to Diarmuid’s neck. 

Soon Diarmuid was pulling David toward the bed, nearly knocking over the bucket of water. He kissed the bigger man like he couldn’t get enough like God was about to strike him down then and there. He practically moaned in relief when David’s tongue brushed his lips, as always, asking for permission. Diarmuid was quick to grant it, moaning against the other man’s mouth as David explored his own. 

When they parted, Diarmuid immediately crawled up onto the bed, turning away from David and presenting himself. “Please,” He breathed, biting hard on his lip. 

David froze for a moment, but he had never been able to deny Diarmuid, no matter what he asked, so he soon followed, clambering onto the bed behind the smaller man, placing his hands on his hips and pressing himself against Diarmuid’s backside. 

Diarmuid practically melted into David’s touch as David ran his hands over his back, down his spine, and over his sides. “Take me…” Diarmuid hadn’t meant for his voice to come out sounding so desperate but in truth, that was how he was feeling. He always wanted David in some way, a soft desire that never seemed to wane. But this, this was something different entirely. He didn’t want to just have David, he didn’t want to just be loved, he wanted to be taken, to be dominated,  _ ravaged.  _

He shivered again when David’s hand slipped beneath his clothes, pushing up the tunic he’d long since traded for his monk robes. The tunic came off easily and David’s fingers swiftly untied his breeches, pushing them down and Diarmuid shifted so they could be pulled off. Diarmuid’s breath caught in his throat when he felt David’s rather substantial manhood press against his ass, making the ache deep in the pit of his stomach grow all the more ravenous. 

He held still as David kissed over his shoulders and down his spine, pressing his lips together to keep from whining as a wet tongue flicked between his cheeks. But it was becoming apparent that he hadn’t been clear about what he wanted. When one of David’s hand slid over his belly, Diarmuid reached for it, entwining their fingers as he placed their hands over his rapidly beating heart. 

David stopped, his eyes on Diarmuid as the other man turned back to gaze at him. “I want more, I want to feel you everywhere.” When he saw the questioning look in David’s eyes, Diarmuid immediately squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. “I won’t break.”

David looked unsure, his eyes clouded with concern. Diarmuid though was determined to get what he wanted and show David he wasn’t some glass doll. He turned back around and pulled David in for another harsh kiss, nipping at his lips. He gripped David’s cock as he did, stroking him roughly. “ _ Take me.  _ Take what’s yours.” Diarmuid implored, his hands slipping David’s tunic from his shoulders. 

Though Diarmuid had trouble finding the right words, David understood all the same. In one swift movement, David had Diarmuid pinned back against the bed, one hand splayed against his chest, the other around his throat, just enough pressure to make Diarmuid’s heart beat faster. 

The hand on his throat gave a squeeze before retreating, both hands coming to push Diarmuid’s thighs apart, two slick fingers quickly pressing inside, making Diarmuid cry out, his hands gripping the furs beneath him. He bit down on his lip, head tipping back as those thick fingers thrust in and out over and over, spreading him open. Diarmuid squeezed his eyes shut, moving with David’s hand, soft pants passing his lips. 

When the fingers disappeared, Diarmuid let out a whine, only to end up moaning again when David pressed inside, burying himself to the hilt. He had only a few seconds to adjust before David began to move, setting a bruising pace, his hands gripping Diarmuid’s hips. Diarmuid opened his eyes when one of those slipped up his body and pressed against his throat again, his toes curling as he watched the muscles in David’s arm flex, the veins standing out against his skin. 

Diarmuid whined softly, relishing the weight of David’s hand against his throat, of his fingertips digging into the flesh of his hips. He knew he was sure to bear the marks of this encounter and the thought excited him. He allowed David to manhandle him as he pleased, bringing their hips together with each thrust. 

He didn’t protest when David released him, only to turn him onto his belly so he could take him from behind. The change of position drove David deeper, causing Diarmuid to moan louder, unable to keep from calling out. As for David, he made some of the same guttural noises Diarmuid heard earlier in the forest, which only served to turn the younger man on even more, his cock dripping steadily onto the bed below. 

Diarmuid soon found David’s arms wrapped around him, his strength obvious as he pressed himself against Diarmuid’s back, his breath hot against his shoulder. David kissed along freckled skin, nipping at Diarmuid’s ear lobe. Diarmuid’s hands curled into fists, a whimper escaping his lips. 

The ex monk was surprised when David let go of him once more and instead laid out on the bed beside him. Their eyes met and all it took was one pat against his thigh for Diarmuid to get the picture. Despite his legs feeling a little like pudding, he climbed up into David’s lap, settling himself down on his cock. 

Diarmuid found a rhythm easily, rocking himself back and forth again and again, his cries turning into babbles of prayer and exaltation. David’s hands found his hips again, big hands splayed out against creamy skin. Every twist of his hips sent him closer and closer to the edge, until it was almost too much. One touch of David’s hand on his cock sent him spilling onto the bigger man’s chest, even managing to paint his lips with a bit of white. Diarmuid keened softly, feeling David reach his own end, the other man groaning as though he’d been wounded. Diarmuid soon collapsed down onto the bed beside his lover.

The next thing Diarmuid became aware of was gentle hands stroking through his hair and down his chest. Several kisses were placed on his forehead and cheeks before coming to his lips. Diarmuid felt his heart skip a little and he would’ve blushed if his cheeks weren’t already warm from their activities. He opened his eyes to meet those sweet brown ones he loved so much. He reached a hand to run through David’s curls. He was already beginning to feel sore but it was a good kind of sore. 

“I love you.” Diarmuid murmured to him as they shared more kisses. 

David hummed softly in return, his own way of saying those same words. Together they curled together under the blankets as the sun began to set, both sated and happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm saintaleksander on Tumblr.


End file.
